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"smasher" poems
Mixy-Twixy Atom-Smasher Take my brain I hope it's matter Break away from all the things we said we'd be Internally False pretense On happenstance All my socks have holes Breaking molds Of wither and tither I keep your family on standby Hand-holding lullaby There was a cake on my doorstep And a front porch on my brain stem Again and again And Asian And never have I ever Played a game with this many fingers Following muffin-tops to your local coffee cart There's a joke there Breaking, breaking Silence retaking I haven't heard from you in a fortnight Mind's eye Zip-tie Bedroom follies I hope you get better As I write letter by letter And hope that you're not mad Sad, enraged, but glad Butt-mad and tired Fired the liar Who broke the back of the cat next door Heart attack on front porches Cause distress and sores On the back of the man Who did nothing but hoard For more and more and more God be with us, I do pray But Mary take my prayers away Make them better, I ask, I say And send them to who needs them most Today
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May 5, 2013
May 5, 2013 at 3:56 PM UTC
Intelligible
Love unfeigned, how can it be Truly known: by deed or by word? Take old Sisera for example, my lady, Who fled with his glittering sword To the tent of Jael, the beloved wife Of Kenite, from the face of Barak. And of her requested he for his life Water, and she in action was not slack To offer him milk instead, and did cover Him again with a blanket. Sleeping in peace, She crept softly to him with a hammer And nailed down his temple with ease. Yet to her did he entrust his safety, Seeking from the smasher vain security. Consider Joab, too, how he by his fine Speech killled Amasa his worthy cousin; Taking his beard with his right hand As though he would give him a kiss grand, Whilst his left hand had a thirsty dagger Waiting; and he pierced the good feller Through with his wicked blade. How the tongue Of men do flatter oft in order to do wrong!
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Feb 23, 2012
Feb 23, 2012 at 5:42 AM UTC
Love Unfeigned . . . ?
I stumbled into you via modern technology, Shot out of an atom smasher with endless chances To spark some debate on space and all that lies between the moon and your window. I like to believe in the odds of random probability, Taking extraordinary circumstance and crafting it into friendship, A testament to innovation, modern socialization, And classically, it's boy meets girl once again, and she's sitting on a fortune of intellect. Thinking for yourself has unlimited *** appeal behind it, and you're glowing with charisma. You're my drug, my very own antidepressant. I thank every God for the atom smasher that made it possible to collide with you.
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Jul 5, 2016
Jul 5, 2016 at 2:10 AM UTC
Atom Smasher.
If no Christian priorly am i. And should all I know about the David's Son was from the Believers' lips. One act of Christ that shall My vagabond soul convert is that poor lady, Who was, by the righteous Jews, caught in The act of adultery, and to the eternal Light Was brought to be unto death ****** Stooping Down, and with his finger began he to write In the sand; rising up again, saying, he should the First person be a stone at her to cast Among the gathered accusers, who's from iniquity Free and has committed, not in the time past Neither in this present state, a single sin. And They, hearing this, from the oldest head began They to disappear--who had come to reprimand The woman with a stoning sentence--one by one. Having all gone, Jesus, thus asked the smasher: "Woman, where are all thine many an accuser? And hath no man condemned thee?" She answering The Lord gracious, "No, sir." "Neither do i too," Said the Saviour. "Go, and sin no more, my darling." Yea, such is the Messiah's love and mercy true! To save came Christ, and not to sinners **** The only Prophet that liberated man from the Devil.
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Mar 31, 2012
Mar 31, 2012 at 3:23 AM UTC
This Act of Jesus
K so you all know lol Frank ruland Jr has all these profiles Frank ruland Jr Bear dove Ormend's dog And Lena Walters All his profiles so you all know Thanks Troll smasher Brandon nagley
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Jul 5, 2015
Jul 5, 2015 at 1:41 PM UTC
Troll smash/ troll hanging lol
what's wrong with you jasper everywhere you go your presents is ghostly unseen like casper YOUR NOT GOOD ENOUGH your a conflict caster witty but not faster antagonist to laughter the fact of the factor is that jasper is the master OF ******** your faker than plaster lies fill your chapter your just another whack rapper   a dream smasher sellin your pride from a tractor YOU'RE A ****** DISASTER a druggie an blunt passer mentality of a raptor the head master hereafter all the glorious stories OF ******** jasper you have to stray away from fool **** see its basically a pool pit OF DOOM verbs go boom as ignorance fills the room you have finally sealed your tomb tis destine since the womb hope you don't go to soon but its too late because jasper's dead IM REDWOLF *****
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Sep 8, 2015
Sep 8, 2015 at 11:23 AM UTC
whats wrong with me
By: David W. Clare I was hiding away from crooks when I met the only girl I thought I ever liked, she said her name was Wanda... A real oriental smasher, smart as a whip! Easy to be with at the coffee-shop where we met... Then she acted funny; kinda aloof like a Siamese cat! She wasn't hungry but she knew I was... We walked up hill in China town to the Shanghai Tower where they rent rooms by the hour... I was in the mood for some sweet and sour! All I got to eat was sour-dough! We got drunk on cheap ***** then she tossed me to the dogs, I wound up on skid row... (C) In perpetuity all rights reserved (P) FilmNoirWorks
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Dec 23, 2016
Dec 23, 2016 at 12:23 AM UTC
The Coffee Break
The person I was is slowly fading I tell no one, so no one can be aiding My mind shatters like an atom smasher My heart and breathing are going faster Take a pill and make it better Or sit right down and write a letter What I say is written in a panic I feel me stepping up to manic He’s so upset, and his eyes say “Did you have a really bad day?” Toys are brought, 3 in all “Grandma will you throw the ball?” “Playing fetch will make you happy.” I know. the dog is very sappy I cannot ignore the plea It’s the eyes, it gets to me So outside we go to play You KNOW, I feel better today
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Sep 9, 2024
Sep 9, 2024 at 10:45 AM UTC
Hurting
A moster called a smasher They say your heart Is a heart of gold Never broken Never been stolen I though to myself How could this be true I spoke to him for the first time in ages His eyes looked inlighten His mouth looked egor to kiss the cracked lips of another A gentle imbrace of a warm hug Welcomes me with the words im sorry Flashbacks full my mind How could he not be broken? More words flowed out From the many years Of not speaking He told me I never texted back That we could never be close again That he has alway been waiting He stopped to think And he ended with the heartbreaking words I loved you once I loved you twice I thought you were nice You took my heart And smashed it into pieces I felt sick Had I become a smasher? I whispered I waited for your message It never came Slowly we moved apart We went our own ways What was I meant to say You were meant to say I love you
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May 17, 2016
May 17, 2016 at 5:18 PM UTC
smasher the monster
I keep reading these poems about love, fresh love, new love, true love. But all I can think about is how sad, beautiful, heartbroken these poems will be when that love ends.
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Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 11:14 AM UTC
Hope Smasher
Before I left to walk to your music show in the courtyard, I slipped the knife my boyfriend gave me into my dress pocket. It was heavy enough to weigh down half the outfit, and radiated something putrid or dissonant in that crowd of flowers and sandals and paint and honey-chamomile for the entire duration, but I needed a reminder of who I am now. Being near you at all was already a betrayal of myself because now I guess I'm playing his type: the ******** girl-- the stereotype-smasher-badass-bitch girl-- calling her a "girl" isn't even fair because she chopped enough of her hair to be Wyoming's worst ****** nightmare, and she wears work boots and flannels and scars, (and sweatshirts to cover my secret scrawny arms--) She’s a piece-of-machinery girl, a rachet-and-wrenched-myself-together girl, and it took so ******* long for me to forge a metal exoskeleton hard enough to smother this stupid gushy heart. Because a heart only compromises the real **** I have to do in the real world-- not your fantasy world where no one has a job but slurping your excess passion alone is somehow enough to sustain, and the men sweep bundles of wild violets-- shooting straight out of the New York City pavement-- into their hands as gifts, and their women smile and flip their Pantene-commercial hair in slow-motion, and together the lovers paint poetry onto each other's chests in the dark, and your long-expired promise of that love-- of your dream-- that you had me believing still plunges deeper into my stomach than I ever planned it to and it feels like a white-hot knife splitting me open from throat to bladder-- You came out to hug me when the show ended. I walked home crying a hydraulic expulsion of the final remnants of my old, foreclosed heart. Then he was right there waiting for me at home, and it was so easy to pretend.
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Jul 2, 2021
Jul 2, 2021 at 10:52 PM UTC
I'm gonna break into two one of these days
Before I left to walk to your music show in the courtyard, I slipped the knife my boyfriend gave me into my dress pocket. It was heavy enough to weigh down half the outfit, and radiated something putrid or dissonant in that crowd of flowers and sandals and paint and honey-chamomile for the entire duration, but I needed a reminder of who I am now. Being near you at all was already a betrayal of myself because now I guess I'm playing his type: the ******** girl-- the stereotype-smasher-badass-bitch girl-- calling her a "girl" isn't even fair because she chopped enough of her hair to be Wyoming's worst ****** nightmare, and she wears work boots and flannels and scars, (and sweatshirts to cover my secret scrawny arms--) She’s a piece-of-machinery girl, a rachet-and-wrenched-myself-together girl, and it took so ******* long for me to forge a metal exoskeleton hard enough to smother this stupid gushy heart. Because a heart only compromises the real **** I have to do in the real world-- not your fantasy world where no one has a job but slurping your excess passion alone is somehow enough to sustain, and the men sweep bundles of wild violets-- shooting straight out of the New York City pavement-- into their hands as gifts, and their women smile and flip their Pantene-commercial hair in slow-motion, and together the lovers paint poetry onto each other's chests in the dark, and your long-expired promise of that love-- of your dream-- that you had me believing still plunges deeper into my stomach than I ever planned it to and it feels like a white-hot knife splitting me open from throat to bladder-- You came out to hug me when the show ended. I walked home crying a hydraulic expulsion of the final remnants of my old, foreclosed heart. Then he was right there waiting for me at home, and it was so easy to pretend.
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